


i know you (and you're perfect)

by civillove



Series: seblaine prompts from tumblr [107]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bad Eating Habits, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, general toxicity bc kurt hummel was the worst bf and i said what i said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27711871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: anon requested: abusive klaine, best friend sebastian, hurt/comfort--The first time it happens, Blaine doesn’t think much of it because honestly, he’s been meaning to cut back on the sweets and stuff. He doesn’t fit into his jeans as nicely as before, he’s got a bit of a muffin top, and the fabric squeezes the majority of his thighs a little uncomfortably. There’s this little voice inside his head that tells him he can do better, that he will do better—so when Kurt gives him this look when he orders dessert when they’re at dinner, Blaine feels ashamed…But he understands.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Series: seblaine prompts from tumblr [107]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/82780
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	i know you (and you're perfect)

**Author's Note:**

> please heed to the warnings mentioned in the tags --(body image and self-esteem issues, bad eating habits, general toxicity). the sad part is kurt has behaved this way in canon too so jUST be aware that blaine was in an abusive relationship with kurt via canon :)!!!!!!! it was just more emotional rather than physical. more self-love and self-care for blaine anderson 2020.

The first time it happens, Blaine doesn’t think much of it because honestly, he’s been meaning to cut back on the sweets and stuff. He doesn’t fit into his jeans as nicely as before, he’s got a bit of a muffin top, and the fabric squeezes the majority of his thighs a little uncomfortably. There’s this little voice inside his head that tells him he can do better, that he _will_ do better—so when Kurt gives him this _look_ when he orders dessert when they’re at dinner, Blaine feels ashamed…

But he understands.

\--

“You’re donating that?” Sebastian asks as he raises an eyebrow, lowering his book to look at Blaine collecting clothes. He’s sprawled out on his bed while Blaine rifles through his closet, choosing to donate some of the things he doesn’t wear so much anymore (or doesn’t fit in).

Blaine blinks at the question, looking down at a checkered pair of chinos. His fingers are trembling just _slightly,_ not enough to be noticeable. He’s thrown off with how to respond because Sebastian knows him, sees through him sometimes in a way that heatedly digs under his skin. He’s never been a man to mince words.

He licks his dry lips, motioning to the pants for a moment, “Why? Do you want them?” Blaine attempts to take the focus off of himself but that backfires.

Sebastian laughs softly, putting the book down, “I don’t have an ass to fill those out.”

A soft blush kisses his cheeks as he folds the fabric between his hands, “Yeah, well, maybe that’s the problem.”

The taller is quiet for a moment, seeming to sense that there’s something else going on as he moves to look through a few articles of clothing from the pile Blaine is creating. “You love those pants.”

And that’s the thing, he _does,_ but…Kurt’s told him that patterns? They’re not flattering on him, not with the weight he’s gained. Blaine swallows, shrugging his one shoulder, trying to pull words out from underneath his tongue.

“They’re just…not my favorite anymore.”

Sebastian’s hand gently settles on Blaine’s, forcing him to put the pants down on the bed that’s not near the pile for donation. “Think about it—keep them for a while,” And then purposely drags his gaze over the swell of Blaine’s ass, “With an ass like that? No one’s going to come close to filling them out as well as you do.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but he does smile.

And he keeps the pants.

\--

(He wears those pants on his first date with Sebastian.)

\--

Blaine runs a quick hand through his curls, looking at himself one more time in the mirror before rushing into his living room where Kurt’s waiting.

“Sorry, I’m finally ready. Though, I’m sure it’s perfectly fine to be like, fifteen minutes late.” He smiles a little, “Rachel’s certainly never running on time, I’m sure her apartment-warming is behind schedule too.”

It takes Blaine a moment to realize that Kurt’s not listening because he’s distracted, his eyes sweeping over his form like some sort of metal detector. His gaze lingers on certain parts of him—his hips, his stomach, and up his chest to meet hazel confusion. Blaine glances down at himself, fingers smoothing out his shirt for a moment before he clears his throat. Kurt’s not looking because he’s admiring or appraising—there’s something distinctly _horrible_ there, to the point where it makes Blaine feels self-conscious and unsure.

“Oh honey,” Kurt moves to touch the collar of his shirt, “Maroon? It just makes you look so _swollen.”_

Blaine’s mouth falls open a little because he’s not even sure what to say, tears stinging the back of his eyes in _embarrassment_ as Kurt clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth—completely unaware of how his words have hurt him.

It’s too late to change and anyways, Blaine’s pretty sure if he would have stepped inside that closet, he wouldn’t have come back out.

\--

He’s miserable but that much is obvious. Blaine’s been sick with a nasty head cold the past few days and it’s made it virtually possible to taste or even enjoy food. Let alone _coffee,_ god, he really misses his lattes. Especially with the time of year being what it is, all the local coffee shops have holiday flavors—what he would _do_ for a gingerbread latte right now. At least his Christmas tree is up and…well, because he’s not eating? He’s losing a little bit of weight.

Somehow that makes him feel worse instead of better, even though Kurt tells him this morning that it’s an upside.

He settles in the corner of the couch, feeling his worst and _looking_ his worst—like a big gray blob in a pair of Dalton sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. His curls are sad and his nose is rimmed red, eyes tired and listless.

“Alright, it’s from a can so lower your expectations.” Sebastian says as he sets down the bowl of soup on the coffee table.

Blaine sniffles thickly, “M’not hungry.”

The taller rolls his eyes, “You have to eat. You won’t start feeling better until you do.”

And distantly, Blaine knows that he’s right, despite the fact that his stomach hurts. Sebastian’s really a saint for putting up with him like this—Kurt won’t even let him back into the apartment because he’s got a part in a musical he _cannot_ get sick for. Okay, maybe Blaine’s being a bit dramatic on that one…but Kurt’s practically said as much when he woke up with a sore throat and sneezing two days ago. He’s been milling around Sebastian’s apartment ever since.

Blaine slowly uncurls his legs and sets his feet on the ground, leaning up from the couch to hover over the soup that’s been placed on the coffee table. He catches sight of Sebastian, who’s watching him for a moment, those green eyes amused yet…there’s something else there. He’s _looking_ at him but it’s different. There’s this heated layer to his gaze, licking his lips as practically absorbs the sight of Blaine in these sweatpants.

He feels heat crawl along the back of his neck because…no one looks at him like Sebastian does, absolutely no one. How can someone make him feel wanted like this? When he’s sick, tired and a ball of fabric on his couch.

“What?” He asks softly, afraid to even hear the words outloud—so used to chiding, a soft reprimand hidden by false concern.

“Nothing,” Sebastian sticks his hands in his pockets before grinning, “Those sweatpants are just really doing it for me.” Blaine must make a face because the taller laughs, “I’m _serious,_ like…damn. They’re not leaving anything to my imagination.”

“Oh hush,” Blaine manages to say but there’s a fluttering that seeps down from his chest and settles into his stomach as Sebastian sits down next to him, “Sweatpants don’t look hot on anyone.”

Sebastian snorts but says nothing for a few moments, handing Blaine his bowl of soup and watching the episode of _Seinfeld_ that’s on. “They do on you,” He looks over at him, bumping their shoulders gently, “But feel free to try and prove me wrong by taking them off.”

Blaine smiles because he can’t quite help it and takes a bite of his soup.

\--

He entertains these conversations he has with Kurt about healthy lifestyles because Blaine thinks it’s coming from a place of caring and concern.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

\--

_This is the last time,_ Blaine says to himself over and over again as he feels lightheaded from not eating. It’s not like he’s…purposely trying to starve himself or anything, just sometimes he skips breakfast or lunch when he’s really busy with classes or theater practices. It’s easier that way, with the lack of time, and he can just shove in a granola bar or something to get him to his next meal.

It works until it doesn’t.

He nearly passes out after running to catch the subway—his cheeks flushed, hands clammy and the world spinning off its axis as he sits longer than necessary and misses his stop. Then it gets worse because he walks off the train and has to sit immediately afterwards, black dots swimming in front of his eyes because _holy fuck_ he’s going to faint.

He feels like he might cry, utter disgust welling up inside his chest because _who is he?_ He is not this person. Blaine doesn’t recognize himself. He’s struggled with self-acceptance and self-love in the past but not like this and it takes him longer than it should to realize that this toxicity comes from somewhere and it’s not from within.

Blaine lets out a slow breath and takes out his phone, pressing Sebastian’s contact info and closing his eyes. He feels so stupid and so _sick_ and he must apologize twenty times after telling his friend that he needs him.

Sebastian arrives ten minutes later with Gatorade and half of a sandwich from this sub shop that’s close to the subway station. The taller sits next to him as he eats, his leg jackhammering because he’s biting down on his tongue—Blaine knows him that well. He’s angry with him or upset _because_ of him, something, words Sebastian’s not saying because he doesn’t want to upset Blaine any further.

Eventually, when Blaine’s able to stand, Sebastian snaps out, “Why are you doing this to yourself? Jesus, Blaine, there’s nothing wrong with you—you’re _perfect.”_

The words are so clear and deafening that they seem to hit directly in the center of his chest, hollowing him out like a black hole. He stares up at Sebastian and he doesn’t even know what to _say,_ his throat choked and a wetness sitting on his eyelashes. _I don’t know_ will not suffice; he knows _exactly_ why he’s doing this.

And Sebastian knows it too.

The word _perfect_ sits on his shoulders like cinderblocks because how can he think that? A word he hasn’t identified with in so long and yet, standing here in a crowded subway station with Sebastian, Blaine thinks he might be close to feeling it one day. That he might become whole again. That Sebastian can love him enough for both of them until he’s ready to do it on his own.

Blaine just shakes his head, unable to say anything and Sebastian sighs. The taller steps forward and gathers Blaine into his arms, squeezing him tightly as he plants a kiss to his hairline.

“You owe me a metro ticket,” Sebastian mumbles after a few moments.

Blaine smiles, wiping a tear track off his cheek before he leans up on his toes to kiss him.

\--

Blaine chews on his lower lip as he runs his hands down his sweater, checking himself out in the mirror. He’s not nitpicking over small things anymore—yeah, he has a bit of a tummy and small love handles that poke at the waistband of his jeans. But he’s eating healthier and feeling more confident…all it took was not blaming himself for indulging, with adopting a balance that acknowledged it was _human_ to have cravings. _And_ to be with a supportive man who loved him, no matter what— _that_ made all the difference.

Sebastian comes up behind him, tucking his own shirt into his jeans before he smiles at Blaine through the mirror. The taller lets out a soft sigh, his chin resting on the other’s shoulder as his arms wrap around Blaine’s waist. He tugs him back against his chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, neck, and cheek.

“Ready to go?” Blaine asks him, “We’re going to be late for our reservation.”

Sebastian hums, eyes drinking him in through the mirror. “Think a later time is available?”

Blaine lets out a soft laugh, “Why?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer but turns Blaine around, shifting their bodies until the back of Blaine’s knees bump into the edge of the bed. He begins pulling at his clothes—long, languid movements that are meant to be drawn out. Sebastian doesn’t rush, wants to see patches of Blaine’s exposed skin one moment at a time.

“I _just_ got dressed.” Blaine huffs but he’s not exactly complaining, not in the slightest.

Sebastian presses him to sit back on the bed, sinking to his knees—he kisses the spots that Blaine struggles with the most. Across his stomach, along the spans of his thighs, and the soft swelling at his hips.

Blaine’s never really felt perfect but he has to admit, with Sebastian’s mouth on him like that and paired with the utter fondness in his gaze? he’s really starting to.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i'm over at blainesebastian on tumblr if you want to say hi :)


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